


here i go

by sabishikute (protoagaz)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, idek how long this will continue tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protoagaz/pseuds/sabishikute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young female teacher temporarily takes over one of Karasuno's first-year classes, and very quickly becomes tangled up with Tsukki in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. don't bother howling at the moon

It starts as innocently as it could have started. I'd been newly out of school, only months past the exhilaration of the graduation ceremony, and now I stand behind a desk at Karasuno Academy as a substitute, for an old teacher now in the hospital with some terrifying relapse of pneumonia. Most of the boys in the class gape at me openly every day, with a greedy relief that I blush at, even as I understand it after seeing the teacher's picture; some of them border on obnoxious or whisper and giggle, and others pretend not to care. The one I notice is in the latter group, tall and lanky and level-eyed, and for a few days I let myself feast my eyes on him, the romantic in me stubbornly asserting itself to notice the sunlight glowing in his hair on bright days and the rare true smile that flashes over his face once in a while.

Then, eventually, I get back an assignment from him to grade, and learn his name. Tsukishima Kei, a first-year. He's only fifteen, younger than I'd dreamed, and enough to dredge up my old habit of lip-biting instantly. There are six years between us, plus the barrier of teacher and student, and I still have a crush on him.

For the rest of the first week I try not to look at him, and find myself looking nonetheless. The knowledge of his age comes out in my movements and my voice whenever I have to address him, and at some point the realization slips into his eyes and makes them flash with something whenever he looks at me. Often I do catch him looking at me, till the intensity of my crush is as aggravating and exciting as it always becomes.

On Friday the students rush from the classroom with the relief of an upcoming weekend, and I bend over my desk opposite the door to collect the day's papers. The silence that falls is oddly full, with a presence that makes me pause and glance up.

Some combination of startled interest ripples down my spine as I see Tsukishima still in his seat, watching me with the steady gaze I recognize from just a few hours earlier. Even as I look at him he stands, glasses glinting in the feverish light of the setting sun outside the window.

"Sorry, sensei, I hope I didn't scare you." He smiles, no hint of it reaching his eyes. "I just wanted to ask you something."

My heartbeat suddenly rockets into hearing, pounding in my throat. I hold on to the lip of the desk, bracing myself with the knowledge of being the teacher, the older one. "What is it, Tsukishima-kun?"

"Well..." He walks toward me, slow, hands buried in his pants pockets, and my gaze flashes across his body for an instant before I bring it under control.

Then he's standing before me, not quite at the opposite side of the desk; nothing divides our bodies, and I straighten up automatically, coating my expression in professionalism. His face has something rueful, something that feels only superficial in a strange way.

"I don't want to sound inappropriate, but I've noticed that you look at me a lot..." His voice trails off and he shrugs a bit. "This definitely sounds weird, but do you like me or something?"

All the blood in me rushes to my cheeks and between my legs, and I barely keep my face in check looking up at his cool eyes. Foremost in my mind is the thought that he's setting me up, that he's read my interest in him and is doing his best to blackmail me with it. Despite myself I bite my lip, concentrating as much as I can on whatever distraction lies in it.

Then he smiles again, takes another step, and I'm torn between backing away toward the wall or holding my ground. For a moment I choose the latter and he towers over me, closer than I'd like for my peace of mind; and then he moves closer and I find myself stepping backward automatically, my mind screaming at me to feel threatened.

"Don't worry," he says softly. "I'm just checking to make sure I'm right."

Abruptly my back is to the wall - a corner shadowed by bookshelves, far from the view of the door - and he's easing himself against me, gradually, so that the pressure of his hips grows so slowly as to barely register on my senses until suddenly his weight's crushed me back against the wall. He raises a hand, fingers more pale and slender than I'd thought, catches my lower lip between finger and thumb, pulls my mouth open, licks his lips, and then he's kissing me before I have a chance to breathe.

My eyes slip closed, lit red by the swollen setting sun, and my senses cut off to nothing but his slim body pressed to mine and his lips working against mine. I don't know how to react, and at the same time I open my mouth further for him when the tip of his tongue touches my lips. Then it's sliding soft and hot into my mouth, tracing my teeth and tongue and the roof of my mouth with a smooth greed, and my hands reach up shaking to hold onto him.

When he pulls his tongue from my mouth he lingers to lick my lips with slow painstaking strokes, and I moan, a faint odd vibration in the back of my throat. Almost before the sound has faded in the air, he nips at my lower lip sharply, and the rest of the blood leaves my face to swell between my legs. A gasp chokes in my throat and he pulls away to look at me; all I can see are his cool catlike eyes, the only thing not blurred by my own heartbeat.

A second later he slips a hand around the back of my head and pulls me against him more tightly, and bites my lip hard. Dizzy aching pleasure spikes across me as the pain radiates out from the bite, enough to make me groan. "Tsukishima-kun..."

His fingers tangle in my hair, the muscles tensing sharply in his arm, and he pushes me back against the wall until my head collides with it, compounding the pressure with a rough thrust of his hips. I feel my eyes lose focus with pleasure, nearly whimper when his leg slips between mine and his thigh presses against me.

"Don't call me that," he whispers, fingers pulling tight in my hair, shooting pain across my scalp. His voice drips with a teasing coolness. "Let's make a deal...if you call me Kei, I'll do the things you like. Like this -"

He leans in and bites my neck, harder than he'd bitten my lip, and I gasp at the electric pain. My hips buck against his, an automatic movement that nearly relieves the pressure; then he snatches up my wrists, pins my arms above my head, bends to sink his teeth into the soft skin of my arm, and I move again, this time feeling the wet swelling between my legs.

"You're M, aren't you?" He holds both my wrists in one hand, runs his other thumb down my arm hard enough to bruise. "Do you like this?"

It's a crawling sensation, more of violence than sexuality, and I shake my head. "No, Tsu-no, Kei." My voice has ridden higher than I'd like it to, until I sound like some hentai heroine. "Bite me. Please."

He smiles again, and snatches a sharp nip at the angle of my jawline, moving to my earlobe before I can take a breath. My back arches off the wall, inches closer to him, and he rocks against me agreeably with another bite along my jaw; at the same time his hand moves to the buttons of my blouse, undoing them with an ease I didn't have with two calm hands.

I shudder at the touch of his fingertips along my collarbone. My thighs are already damp and I press them together around his thigh, wish I'd worn tights rather than simply a skirt; then he bends and bites the curve of my breast, slow and hard and lingering, and I feel myself arch again against the spike of pain. My groan is louder than it should be, almost echoing in the room, building into a whimper when he bites my other breast.

His fingers work at the clasp of my bra and open it in seconds, and then the air is cold on my breasts and I struggle against his hold on my wrists, instinct telling me to cover myself again, gooseflesh running down my arms. He tightens his grip, holding me in place, brushing my open blouse out of the way and looking at me for a long moment.

"Can I call you Rou?" he asks and licks his lips. My eyes focus just barely enough to see the glaze in his, mirrored by a smile with the faintest sadistic edge.

I nod, and his smile widens. "That means wolf, doesn't it? So appropriate, because wolves howl at the moon." He leans in, lips brushing mine, his free hand cupping my breast. "I'm gonna make you cry to me."

For a minute he strokes my breast, and then he leans down and his mouth replaces his fingers, gentle at first and growing rougher with every second. His lips are wet, pressing and sucking insistently at my nipple until I'm digging my fingernails into my palms with the need to pull him closer. For a moment his tongue slides across my nipple, hot and rough; my hips buck up to meet his again, and then he bites me, so quick and sharp that I barely know it's happened until the pain registers and I gasp his name again.

He leaves my breast aching faintly and moves to the other, licking at it openly and pushing another groan from my throat. Only when I feel the shape of him against my thigh do I realize that I've been grinding myself against him, that my thighs are wet and the ache between my legs has transformed into exquisite pain.

"Kei, bite me." The words slip from my mouth without my permission, and then his teeth run lightly across my breast, nearly caressing my nipple until he bites down. Both my breasts are throbbing now, heat running along my arms.

He kisses me roughly, teeth scraping at my lips, and reaches down with his free hand between us, catching the hem of my skirt and pulling it up. "Rou-chan, do you want more?"

The vast inappropriateness of my situation crashes down on me as I stare into his cool eyes and feel the heat of his breath on my cheeks. I'm twenty-one years old, a teacher making out with her student in the corner of her classroom, letting him do things no man had ever done; and at the same time all he does is turn me on, even when I wonder why. The burning ache across my hips spreads out again and I nod.

He rolls my skirt up until it's a tight scroll between our hips, still pinning my arms above my head with his other hand. For a moment his fingers brush my thighs, cool in comparison to my skin, and then with a quick twist of two fingers he pulls my panties down.

Just the touch of his fingertips makes me gasp. His breathing quickens, nearly matching mine, and he strokes me slowly, again and again, pushing harder each time, until my past arousal feels like nothing in comparison to the way I'm hurting. I buck into his touch; my eyes are barely focused and somehow I see the smile on his face, enough to send a shock of desire through me.

He starts to pull at me with each stroke, exploring me, with the tips of his fingers dipping inside me now and again. His skin slides wetly across mine, and once he breathes out slow and long and I realize he's just as aroused as I am. Bit by bit he grows rougher, pain starting to shoot through me, until I'm whimpering and struggling not to grind against his hand. Then almost abruptly he thrusts two fingers into me, without any semblance of gentleness.

The feeling is a heaven of pain, his fingers filling me up and stroking places I barely know exist. "Oh, god, Kei," I hear myself groan.

Again he kisses me hard, licking the blood from my lips and biting where I'd bitten, multiplying the pain throbbing through me. His fingers slip deeper into me until I feel the rest of his hand pressed against me, and they move slow and seductive, curving inside me.

Somewhere I don't even know, the delight of their motion turns into an explosion and I cry out against his mouth as I come. It's a hundred times worse than any wet dream I've had, a harsh rhythmic spasming of muscles that makes me catch my lower lip between my teeth and bite until I taste blood, gasping in breaths that hurt my throat. I let my hips rock with the rhythm, arching my back off the wall until I feel the fabric of his shirt rough against my skin.

It goes on for an eternity of painful pleasure, until finally the movement fades and his fingers slip out of me. He pulls away just slightly, and for a moment I see his expression in the final glare of the sun, exhilaration and eyes glazed with desire.

His eyes meet mine and he licks his lips again, as breathless as I. An instant goes by with nothing in my mind but a picture: the school dark and empty, with both of us behind my desk. I swallow hard at the idea of lying on the cold linoleum with his weight on me, and then just as quickly it's gone.

After another moment he lifts his free hand, and his fingers glimmer wetly in the last light from outside. It takes me almost no time to realize why, and I bite my lip automatically, wincing at the pain of the cut I'd forgotten.

He rubs his thumb across his fingers, a smile flashing across his face; then he raises his hand to his mouth and licks his index finger, slowly, closing his eyes. My breath catches in my throat, faint warmth dotting my cheeks for all that I can't look away. Then his eyes flash open, the glazed contained heat in them again, and he sucks his fingers clean hungrily.

By the time he's done he's finally let go of my wrists, and even with sore shoulders and palms dotted with crescent nail marks, I'm nearly considering the idea of having him behind my desk. The illogic of it has faded away into a distant murmur, one that's as easy to listen to as a breath of wind is to catch.

A second later, it roars into my mind, yelling warnings, and I clutch at my bra, redoing the clasp and pushing back anxiety at the mere idea of being caught. Arousal vanishes under near panic, and my whisper sounds far too loud in the dead silence: "I need to go!"

Realization flickers in his eyes and he backs away. "Yeah...so do I." A moment's worth of a smile crosses his face again, this time honestly rueful.

I button my blouse with shaking hands, reach down to fetch the panties crumpled around my ankles and pull them back on. My skirt is more wrinkled than I'd thought possible when I unroll it, and I pat at it with worry knifing through me, trying to settle it into decency. By the time I look up, he's retreated to get his school bag, and for all the world looks like the student I'd thought he was.

The walk to my desk feels like a mile on shaking legs, and I can barely recall the papers I was meant to take home. They're gathered up and in my hands when the understanding of what happened hits me, and I look up sharply at him.

He smiles back. "Maybe next week?"

My cheeks redden and I feel the faintest beat between my legs, and press my thighs together against it. "Maybe."

I don't have the heart to call him Tsukishima-kun again before he walks out of the classroom. I'm too busy wanting Kei.

The weekend goes by, with the memories of everything popping into my head at the most inopportune of times. By the time I've dreamt of him twice, on Sunday morning, I'm more than anxious to see him again, nearly contemplating using my school contacts to find out where he lives. I go to bed on Sunday night, temptation staved off, with a twist of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. The school day is easier to get through than I'd thought it would be; pretending not to notice him works almost as well as it had in the past, and the work alone keeps my mind off any other thoughts. When I do look at him, he's almost always looking elsewhere.

Then it's the end of the day, and the students leave the classroom. I keep my eyes at the papers on my desk, holding my breath despite myself, until the last sounds of their passage have faded, and I can look up.

When I do, he's still sitting at his desk, watching me with that cool gaze. For an instant it feels like no time has passed at all - an odd unsettling deja vu - and then he gets up, places his bag on the desk, and I remember everything again.

"Am I Tsukishima-kun again?" he asks, tilting his head a little.

I haven't spoken his name all day, and hearing him voice it brings back the memories of what he'd done to me. "No, you're Kei," I push out through a dry throat.

He raises a hand, crooks his fingers at me. "Come around the desk, huh?"

I wipe my palms on my skirt and do what he says, standing in front of the desk as he walks up to me. His eyes flicker over my body, calm with a current of hunger beneath, and he licks his lips, taking my chin in his hand. "I already missed this."

Heat flashes over my body and he kisses me, lazy and deep, the tip of his tongue caressing my lips as he presses me back against the desk. My balance disappears in an instant and I fall back onto the desk with his body on mine, his weight and the sweet grind of his hips forcing the breath from my lungs. In the next moment he's got my hands pinned above my head again, and he snaps at my lips, teasing with quick hard bites.

The old cut from before gives way under his teeth, a sharp pain shooting through my lower lip, and it makes me gasp. He bites at it again, till I'm moaning from the throbbing of blood under my skin, and then I feel the blood trickling through the cut and the warm rasp of his tongue licking it away. My back arches for a moment and his grip on my wrists tightens in reply, his fingernails digging into my skin.

"We should do this somewhere else," he whispers against my mouth, his breath hot and tinted with mint.

"No, not now." I'm already breathless, my voice high and more desperate than I'd like. "Bite me, Kei. I don't care."

My eyes close on their own when he starts to nibble at my earlobe, his lips brushing at my hairline, the tip of his tongue tracing wet lines along my skin. His fingers loosen around my wrists, and I pull my hands free, knotting my fingers in his hair; he pushes closer, one hand on my shoulder, sighing against the side of my neck with his hips rocking a little. I push back the urge to open my legs, tilt my head instead to let him bite at my neck.

His free hand drifts down to the hem of my skirt, pulling it up to stroke his fingertips up my thigh, and my legs open anyway, till his hand's braced on my thigh with his thumb rubbing idly against me. A moan rises in my throat when he leans down to bite at my collarbone.

Abruptly a voice echoes from the hall, close enough to send a jolt of panic down my spine. He pulls away from me, his hand slipping out from beneath my skirt, turning to look toward the door. His bites still throb on my skin and I swallow hard.

"Tsukki!" The voice is closer, immediately recognizable - Yamaguchi, the first-year who hangs on Tsukishima's every word.

Tsukishima swears under his breath, adjusts his glasses, retreats to his desk to pick up his school bag again. I manage to get myself off the desk and back behind it, snatching a tissue to press against my still-bleeding lip, and I've only barely started to fix the rumpled papers when the door slides open and Yamaguchi appears.

He barely looks at me, rushing across the room to Tsukishima. "Are you ready to go? I thought something was wrong."

I glance up, and Tsukishima's looking at me again; there's the faintest wry twist to his mouth and then he looks away and slings his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, let's go."

When they vanish from the room and the door closes behind them, I start to understand the existence of love hotels.


	2. labyrinth

The second the hotel room's door closes behind us he pins me to the wall, linking his fingers with mine to hold my hands down and kissing me greedily. Today he tastes like chocolate, and I meet his tongue with mine to drink in the flavor until he starts to suck and nibble at my lower lip.

I manage to get my hand free of his, reach out to loop my arm around his waist and pull his hips tighter against mine. He laughs softly against my mouth and his nails dig into my other hand as he thrusts roughly against me, biting my lip in earnest. Pain swells in two places, the sharper shock of the bite and the aching throb of blood between my legs and across my hips. I moan and let my hand slip under his shirt, pressing sweaty fingers to his hot skin.

He lets my hand go and bites quick and hard along my jawline, his fingers drifting with the faintest touch up my arm to my shoulder. The pressure of his body's lessened, and I arch against him for a second if only to feel more; his hand tightens on my shoulder and he pushes me back against the wall, grinding on me until I hear myself whimper. Belatedly I realize he's teasing at my neck with his lips and tongue, and I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair to pull his face back to mine. He opens his mouth for me, lets me slip my tongue in until the taste of him is too much for me and I groan, leaning my head back against the wall and letting him kiss me instead.

When I've run out of breath he breaks away and catches my hand in his again, pulling me toward the center of the room and the bed there. "There's something I've wanted to try..." I bite my own sore lips at the low eager tone of his voice.

He pushes me back onto the bed with no attempt at gentleness and then he's on me, parting my legs with one knee as his weight knocks all the air from my lungs. My back arches again and I snatch at his shirt, fighting to catch my breath when arousal's taking it all away; then he's pinned my hands above my head like always and his face is pressed to my neck, wet lips moving against my throat as his hips thrust against me.

Heat shudders down my arms and I open my legs entirely. Every movement I make, no matter how small, sends some new sensation knifing through me until I'm wondering how much better outright sex could be than this. At some point I find myself moving with him, meeting his thrusts with mine until it starts to hurt and my gasps turn into moans. He bites my neck, digging his teeth into my skin vampire-like, and I groan so hard it hurts my throat.

He's breathing hard when he stops and pulls away. Both his hands are linked with mine again, slick with sweat, and I realize I've dug my nails into the backs of his hands. "Keep going, Kei," I whisper, voice nearly fading for lack of breath.

"Not yet." He smiles, eyes glinting. "I still haven't tried that thing yet."

He lets my hands go, and climbs off me to undo my jeans and pull them away. His hands are very warm against my thighs for an instant, and then he's pulled my panties off and his fingers start stroking me, hard and demanding. I hear myself hiss, a gasp of breath between gritted teeth.

It goes on, his fingers anything but gentle, until I feel close to coming and my hands are tangled up in the quilt. When I can't focus my eyes anymore and his hand feels wet even to me, he stops; I blink, clearing my gaze, just in time to see him lean toward me and lick his fingers clean slowly and deliberately, one knee pressing up against me until his jeans are a rough rasp on my skin. By the time he's done my whole body is hot and I could swear I'm nearly drooling from watching his tongue move.

"Here I go," he says softly, and before I can react he pulls back, kneeling between my legs. For an instant I wonder, with a jolt of more analytical thought, why he's moved so much further down; then he wraps both hands around my hips and bends forward so that his head's between my thighs. He exhales, his breath hot on me, and I whimper almost without knowing it.

He starts with his lips, working them against me like a kiss, and his fingers tighten on my hipbones even as my heartbeat kicks up another notch. When his tongue joins in, slipping out to touch me directly and push just a bit into me, my hips nearly buck and he holds me down as I cry out. The relief of just being able to use my voice, being in a place where no one will hear, is enough to make me want him more.

After a minute he pulls back and looks at me across my body, licking his lips. His eyes are glazed and there's a bright flush in his cheeks, and for the first time since the door's closed I remember how young he still is. "It tastes good," he says.

I dig my nails into my palms and wonder if I'll ever really be sated. "More, Kei."

He ducks his head back down, and explores me with his tongue just a little longer. I hear myself moaning and my head spins from breathlessness; this time his tongue slides further into me, and he lets me thrust myself down to get more. The feeling's all too familiar, a pulse beating in my throat and an endless ache in my stomach, the need to come hard.

Then he pulls away again, smiles up at me this time. "I'm not making it that easy." He licks his lips and tilts his head up to bite a little at my stomach, while the arousal fades enough to be bearable and I struggle to unclench my fists.

"Now..." His voice makes me look at him again, and I see the sadistic spark in his eyes. My mind's barely dredged up a response when he leans down again, and this time he starts to suck on me, gentle and firm with the tip of his tongue flickering across me now and then.

It makes me finally come, and I hear myself groan in the back of my throat as my muscles twist around nothing. He never stops sucking on me, barely close to my body's empty movement, and every time his mouth pulls harder it draws everything out until I'm nearly sobbing. It ends, only an end to the motion that leaves me with nothing but the need for more, and then he lets me go and moves down to push his tongue into me again.

It takes a moan from his throat to make me realize that I've grabbed his hair with one hand, that I'm pulling him toward me hard. He pulls his tongue away and bites at me instead, over and over, and the sharp flashes of pain are overwhelming. I hear myself cry his name and he licks me hungrily as I come again.

When it's over, I feel no less sated then I did before, and he's nearly gasping for breath. He untangles my fingers from his hair with both hands, moves away from me to lie next to me, and when I look at him it's obvious how aroused he is, even if only from the hectic red painting his cheekbones.

My body's still trembling when I push myself upright and reach over to touch him. Somehow it's still simple to slip both hands under his shirt and pull it up until the smooth muscles of his stomach are in sight. I open my legs and straddle him; the ache between my legs shouts at me to push myself against him and I do, rough jeans and the hard shape of him beneath making me draw in a shaky breath.

"Not yet," he gasps, sounding twice as breathless as I'd expect. Something makes me thrust against him just slightly and I hear the breath catch in his throat as he grits his teeth.

He snatches up my hand and bites it hard. "Not yet!" Through the glaze of pain coating my vision I see him smile, and then his voice is low and nearly seductive again. "If you want to do something, then do it with your hands first."

My hands move before my mind's even processed what he says, and I manage to undo his jeans even with fingers shaking so hard as to blur. For some reason I look up at him, blinking to clear my vision, and even as I slip a hand down to touch him he smiles.

The arousal doubles again when I finally touch him, and he winces with the smile still on his lips; I let my eyes close, working my fingers around him and fighting not to gasp from his heat. He moans when I stroke him a little with my thumb, and the sound chases warmth down my spine.

"Give me your other hand," he whispers, even as his fingers find mine and pull my hand to his mouth. He licks at my fingers and suddenly my attention is split, torn between the hard seductive heat of him and the wet movement of his tongue. When he bites at my knuckle my hand tightens around him, and we both moan almost at the same time.

I push my eyes open, all of me trembling now, and he's watching me. "Let's do it." For a second his voice falters, as though he's barely keeping himself under control.

I nod and then he throws his weight against me, knocking me onto my back again with his hips grinding eagerly against mine. His hands grab at my thighs even as I open my legs for him, and I reach out blindly on a last-second impulse to pull his jeans away; then he takes a breath in the sudden silence and pushes into me.

His heat is even worse inside me, and the rest of my breath vanishes instantly. I can feel the need in his movements, the way he already thrusts hard with his hands clutching my hips, and it reminds me again of his age even while I don't care. I tighten my legs around him, tilt my hips to let him deeper into me, bite my lower lip and never once feel the pain supersede everything else.

He's pushed his face into my neck, his breath warm and wet, and I hear the desperation; all his cool sadism is gone, and something about the raw need replacing it is possibly more exciting. I push at his lower back, trying to get him closer, and he gasps as he thrusts harder. It's starting to hurt, the pain split between his movements and the way everything affects me, from the sound of his breath to the sweat smoothing the friction of our skin.

After a minute he slows down, reaches up with one hand to take his glasses off and drop them to the floor. His face is flushed and something about his expression mirrors everything I feel, the panicked desire that I can't stop enjoying even as it frightens me. He looks younger with no glass lens blotting out his eyes.

I've barely gotten used to his bare face when he bends to kiss me and thrusts harder again. I hear myself moaning, and it chokes into a cry when he bites down slow on my lower lip; he breaks off the kiss and gasps for breath again, each time he inhales sounding close to a whimper, his hands tight on my shoulders as he moves. His eyes slip closed and he whispers something breathless that sounds like "I can't."

An instant later everything changes, and I watch him grit his teeth and cry out as he comes. Later on I can hardly remember anything except his face and the way he feels thrusting deeper into me, but just the expression of painful relief alone is enough to make me come soon after. I last just a little longer and somehow he ends up on his back, breathing hard, as I rock atop him to the last few twists of my muscles.

When it's done, all I want is for it to keep going, but exhaustion pulls me off him and I fall onto my back again, feeling oddly empty without the heat of him. My shirt nearly sticks to my skin, and the bed feels too warm; I glance over at him with impulses torn between falling asleep and climbing onto him again.

Before I can decide, his eyes close and the decision's made for me. I stare up at the ceiling, quietly glad that I'd paid for the whole night, fighting at the same time to push the thoughts out of my mind so I can rest. Eventually, I settle for just imagining what can happen next, and it's enough to tip me over the edge into sleep.


	3. so the world

His number is still in my phone, even though I haven't called it; sometimes I'm not sure exactly how it had gotten programmed into my phone at all. The last time we'd seen each other is still a blur in my mind, so hasty and desperate that I'd forgotten everything I always kept in mind. I'd had to buy pills, and every time I open my bedroom drawer and see them packed away between a notepad and a flashlight, I wonder how much longer I'll need them.

It's on a Saturday night, just a few minutes after the sun's slipped below the horizon, that he does call. For a moment I stare at his name on the screen, before the memories kick in and I remember just how to read the kanji and what it means. It takes me a second to calm down my heart rate enough to tap the screen with a steady hand.

"Hello?"

"Rou-chan, are you busy?" There's a smooth extra tone to his voice from the quality of the connection, enough to distract me from what he's calling me now.

"Yes..."

He laughs. "Do you want to come over? I'm alone."

I start biting my lip almost without knowing it. "You are?"

"Mm-hmm. No one will be here till later tonight." A smile creeps into his voice. "I wouldn't call you otherwise. I want to take my time."

My teeth slip, and a flash of pain heralds broken skin. "O-okay. I'll be over in a minute."

"You're biting your lips, aren't you?" he asks, before I can hang up. "You should wait and let me do that for you."

The click on the line leaves me alone, and I stand there for a while with the phone in my hand wondering exactly why I turn into a nervous mess when this boy talks to me.

It takes me longer than it should to pick out an outfit; I vacillate between something obviously attractive or more normal, something easy to get out of the way like a skirt or more conservative like jeans. Eventually I settle on a plain shirt with no bra and one of my shorter skirts, and wrap a raincoat around it all. When I fetch the pills from my drawer and button them into a coat pocket, I start biting my lip again.

The air outside is heavy with humidity and the promise of rain, sparking sweat on my skin as I walk out of my apartment building. It takes very little time to reach his house, as slow as I'm walking already, and then without warning it looms up before me. I look up at the two darkened stories, breathe in the mild air, push back the nervousness in my stomach to keep going.

When he opens the door, the streetlights glint off his glasses, obscuring his eyes for a moment so that all I see is the faint smile on his face. Then he grabs my arm, pulls me over the threshold and closes the door; the lights vanish, dipping the entryway into total darkness, as he pushes me against the wall.

He doesn't kiss me at first, keeping me pressed hard to the wall instead and nuzzling his face against my neck, drawing his teeth over my skin in slow light bites. I try to breathe, stifled by his weight forcing the air from my lungs, barely able to regulate my breaths already as he parts my legs with one knee.

"Kei...shouldn't we go somewhere else?" I manage to get out, just before his teeth graze along my jaw and my voice dissolves into a whimper.

"Good idea." He bites sharply at my earlobe, pulls away and snatches at my arm again before I can keep my body from melting. I nearly trip over the step into the next room, and he pauses, fingers wrapped around mine, until I've kicked off my shoes and can follow him upstairs.

Somewhere along the way I realize all the nervousness is gone, even with total proof of my presence sitting in the alcove near the door; just like always, I only want him. My bare feet thump on the floor, almost in time with the heartbeat pounding in my throat, and I fumble with the buttons of my coat, trying to undo them before we reach his   
room.

His door is open, the room nearly as dark as the rest of the house with only one light shining in through the window, and I take the chance to slide my coat off as he closes and locks the door. Then he's across the room to me, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my skirt to pull me toward him, breath warm on my lips before he kisses me. There's more heat to it than even last time, and he slips his other hand under my shirt and lightly up my spine as he traces my tongue with his.

"What's this?" he murmurs against my mouth, teasing at my lower lip with the tip of his tongue in between words. "You're just wearing this, huh?"

He bites down on my lip, slow and anything but gentle, his hand moving up from my waist to cup my breast at the same time. I close my eyes, lean into his touch, try not to moan when he starts brushing his fingertips over my nipple. Then his hand slips under my shirt, doing the same thing cool against my skin; pleasure burns across my hips and I open my mouth just a bit wider, needing the heat of his tongue against mine. He plays along, letting me taste him as his thumb rubs in little circles, and eventually he moves to my other breast until I feel the sharp ache in it too.

Then he pulls away, catches the tail of my shirt in both hands to pull it over my head, tosses it to the floor. "Look at you," he whispers. "I think I'd like to see the rest."

My hands are shaking too hard to even think about undoing my skirt. "Go ahead, Kei."

He pulls down the zipper easily with one hand, the other tracing along my collarbone and down to my breasts again. When the skirt falls into a pool around my feet, I realize how hard I've pressed my thighs together, how damp they are already, and it makes me achingly grateful for having decided to wear panties.

Before the thought's left my head, he's pulled my panties off with a quick tug of two fingers, and my mind switches gears, to the sharp knowledge that I'm standing naked in his bedroom. I barely have a moment to process it; he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor near my own clothing, and then he's grabbed both my shoulders and pushed me down onto his bed.

His skin meets mine, hot enough to send chills racing each other over my chest and down my arms, and he bites at my neck and my shoulders until I'm choking back whimpers from the overlapping sparks of pain. At some point his hand slips between my legs, fingers stroking me roughly, and I buck my hips up into his touch. He laughs quietly and thrusts two fingers into me, leaning down to bite at my breast.

My head pounds, dizziness setting in from the blood rushing between my legs; I press my thighs together again, trying to tighten myself around his fingers, and in response he pushes them deeper, moving them slow inside me, for all that he's explored me before. I hear myself gasp in a ragged breath, louder than I want to, as he flicks the tip of his tongue over my nipple and laughs again.

The memories of that day in the classroom all come back when he starts to suck and bite at my breast, and then his fingers curve inside me, fingertips stroking hard and purposeful, and my teeth clamp down on my lip, the extra pain only making me come harder. He lets out a breath of pleasure and pushes another finger into me until all I can feel is the warm presence filling me up, painfully sweet for my muscles to spasm around. I rock against his hand, and even with teeth dug into my lip, a low groan escapes my throat, enough to make him thrust his fingers deeper until his palm's pressed up against me.

He keeps his fingers in me even when I'm done, leans up to kiss my mouth and bite at my lips again. "What do you want me to do?" he murmurs, licking my lips between each word. "I want to make you go crazy, Rou-chan."

All I can feel is the heat across my hips, the pulse between my legs. "I need to come again." I can barely find the breath to whisper it to him.

"Really?" He smirks down at me, pulls his fingers out of me and sucks them clean, quickly enough that I've barely been able to take five steady breaths before he pulls my legs open and thrusts himself against me.

Even with his pants still on it makes me bite back a gasp. He licks his lips and holds onto my shoulders, moving softly enough that I feel nothing more than the shape of him, the friction rubbing against me. "I'm not gonna let that happen if it's what you want," he breathes.

At some point it starts to hurt, feeling him so close and not having him. I reach out blindly, snatching at his waist; he pushes my hands away, leans down to bend between my legs, licks at me with quick little laps of his tongue until my hips start bucking on their own again. He adds his hands, pulling me open so that the tip of his tongue slides into me as he licks me harder, and only when I fight back a cry does he stop.

Under the harsh beat of arousal I realize that he's not giving me what I want, and the thought makes me even more breathless. "Kei, please," I manage to choke out.

He only laughs, reaches between my legs with one hand as he pillows his head on my stomach and bites my skin. This time he's slower, rubbing at me until his fingertips find some spot that sends a flash of heat and pressure through me; the catch in my breath is loud in the silence, and I feel his lips curve in a smile against my skin. He keeps his fingers there, teasing and pulling and pinching, until I snatch at his wrist and try to pull his hand closer. He tsks at me, curls his fingers into a fist.

"You're so wet, look at you." I can hardly hear his voice over the low roar in my ears and my own gasping. He bites almost casually at my breast, and his lips brush my nipple as he speaks. "I'm gonna keep you that way...till I want you to come. Understand?"

The ache flares up between my hips again, and I hardly manage to nod. He pulls away, enough so I see his face as he shoots me a quick smile. "Good. Now..."

He rolls away from me, onto his back. "Ride me. I want to see your face."

I lick my lips and push myself onto my side, almost crawling on shaking legs to climb onto him. The memories of last time help me into the right place, till I feel him against me and settle myself down with thighs tight around him.

"Wait, not like that..." He pulls a little at my thighs. "I wanna touch you."

My lips are suddenly dry again, and I bite at them as I sit up higher. He smiles, reaches two fingers between my legs and finds that same place again, stroking in a circle, till the ache builds into a pain that's nearly numb with need. My eyes slip closed and I feel myself start to move with the motion of his fingers, rocking slowly, pressing both hands to his warm chest; his fingers move more quickly and I do the same, trying to regulate breaths that only grow more ragged with arousal. I hear him breathing, the same uneven catches in his throat, and wonder for an instant just what he's seeing on my face.

"How does that feel?" he whispers. "Does it hurt? Do you want my fingers again?"

Just the sound of his voice makes me push myself down against his hand. "Yes, yes."

"Then, come."

He presses his thumb against that spot, slips two fingers into me, and I come hard. My back arches, my nails digging into his skin; I'm not even sure whether his fingers or thumb feel better, and I grind myself greedily against them both, consciously pushing my muscles tighter, fighting to wring every ounce of pleasure out of it. I feel his chest moving in quick and shallow breaths under my palms, even as I groan aloud.

By the time I'm done, my body's aching actively, and I fall onto him, chest pressed to his. For all that I need even more, exhaustion is crowding in, making dizziness spread through my head.

He brushes his hand along the backs of my thighs, leaving wet trails behind, making his way up to the small of my back and pushing my hips against his. I press my palms to the warmth of his chest to feel it rise and fall; my throat is dry from panting and I swallow hard.

With his free hand he snatches at my hair, tilting my head to nibble absentmindedly on my neck. After a while he starts to suck, fitting his damp lips against my skin, and something caught halfway between an ache and active pain burns through my belly. My breath catches when he does it hard enough to leave a throbbing behind.

His other hand slips down slowly, curving around my thigh and between my legs from behind. His fingers are long enough to stroke me easily, and the soft brush of fingertips makes me bite him just to keep back a cry. He bites me in return, drawing his teeth slow and hard over my neck, as his fingers push harder on me. My hips buck against his before I've even noticed the movement.

Eventually he slips two fingers into me and I dig my nails into his skin at the heat of it. He hisses, sounding faintly offended, shoving his fingers in deeper. "You like it that much, huh?"

All I can manage is a moan, and the slightest loosing of my grip. He laughs and starts moving his hand, gently sliding his fingers back and forth; all the air leaves my lungs and I clutch at him tighter. My breaths turn into whimpers when his hand starts moving more roughly, the motions more like thrusts. It's nearly as pleasant as the sex I remember, almost uncomfortably arousing. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep back the noises building in my throat.

When the tight ache across my hips is enough to make me dizzy, he stops and pulls his fingers out of me. I gasp against his chest, my fingers stiff when I try to loosen them; it doesn't help when he strokes me again, almost experimentally. "You really did like that. You're so wet." He pushes at me with his other hand, a little impatiently. "C'mon, get on your back."

I force my shaking muscles to move, flopping onto my back with the odd chilliness of air brushing its way between my legs. With the heat of him gone everything feels cold, and I shiver, feeling goosebumps prickle into life up my arms and over my breasts.

A moment later he settles onto me, grinding his hips into a comfortable position with purposeful slowness. My eyes nearly close on their own and I keep them open just enough to see him grin down at me and hold up his wet fingers. "I can't let this go to waste," he murmurs, smile twisting up at one corner of his mouth.

He moves absently, pushing closer and thrusting just a little, as he licks his fingers clean. I've seen him do it so many times at this point that I don't even understand why it affects me, but all the same I feel the old pressure on my lungs and the swelling between my legs.

When he's done he strokes both hands down the length of my body, letting his fingertips brush over my nipples, making me shudder again. He avoids touching me this time, tracing a path down my thighs instead before he grabs my hips and leans down to kiss my collarbone. His mouth lingers, something I'm not used to; he bites and licks at my skin, soft and hard, and somehow I end up breathless again before he leaves the wetness to dry and moves down to my breasts.

I can't keep my voice back when he starts teasing at my nipple. "Kei," I choke out, arching despite myself, trying to remember why I hadn't wanted to make noise.

He bites down gently, his tongue a light rasp like a cat's over my nipple, and laughs. For a moment he pulls away, just enough to let his lips brush my skin when he speaks. "Say anything you want. Tell me how wet you are. How much do you want it?"

"You already know how much. Keep going." I can hardly hear myself, with the lack of breath in my lungs.

His hands slip down to my thighs and pull them open, and he settles infuriatingly slowly between my legs, pushing his face between my breasts to leave damp kisses there. This time he doesn't move against me, staying still enough to make me try to move instead; his hands tighten on my hips when I rock up against him and he bites sharply at the curve of my other breast. "Be good, let me do it," he whispers, and sucks at my nipple.

It blurs from there into heat and a desperate sort of desire, a need for everything to continue and for it all to end. He lets me keep moving despite the warning, and leans down to run his mouth under my breasts and over my stomach. Eventually he pulls away from me further, leaving me aching as he bites my hipbones and teases my breasts with his fingertips instead. He never touches me, and the arousal never fades.

Then, downstairs, I hear the distant thud of a closing door, and the coldness and darkness of the room rushes over me to nearly blot out the heat of him. It takes me several seconds to realize that I've stopped breathing; even my heartbeat's far away, pulsing only between my legs.

At the muffled sound of footsteps, he chuckles very quietly. "Ohh, they're home early."

I start gnawing at my lip, stifling my breaths. "Kei, what -"

His hand dips between my legs and I almost cry out, barely choking it back until it grits against the back of my throat. "Shh." He grins down at me, rubs in a slow hard circle with his thumb. "This is what I've been waiting for."

I can't even summon the strength to care that I've been tricked; the smooth heat of his fingers draws everything right out of me. I spread my legs wider and he agreeably slips his fingers into me, keeping them shallow and leaning down to kiss me hard. My mouth opens automatically under his, our breaths loud in the empty silence. I hear something like footsteps on the stairs, blending with my heartbeat.

Abruptly he shoves his fingers deeper into me. Another cry rises in my throat and I shove the energy into the rest of me, feeling my hips buck up hard into his hand. The burning need in my belly spreads with the thought that I'm enjoying this, that I like the thrill of possibly being caught. He makes a low noise in the back of his throat and teases me with his thumb, making no effort at gentleness.

When I come, he breaks the kiss, as if testing me to see just how much I can keep back. I grit my teeth until my jaw aches and snatch at his wrist, and he moves his hand like he did before, a rhythmic thrusting that only makes it worse.

He gives me no time when I'm done, grabbing my hips and ducking his head between my legs. His tongue slides smooth and wet over me and I gasp, almost a cry, terrifyingly loud. My fingers tangle in his hair. I have to bite my lip to keep words from tumbling out of my mouth.

He keeps licking me, as I hear people's movements through the walls. Then he uses his lips and his teeth, sucking and biting me here and there, and I hit a point I haven't ever reached yet; my eyes close and I stop listening to the others in his house, holding onto his hair tight enough to hurt my fingers and letting him do something frighteningly close to eating me. My breathing is too loud, harsh in my throat, and I can't stop it.

A door closes only a few feet away, barely muffled through the walls and enough to break through my thoughts, and at the same time he shifts his position just slightly, moving his mouth up to suck on me like he'd done before and teasing the rest of me with both hands. I come again, and clap both hands over my mouth, digging my nails into my cheeks, just to keep myself from crying out his name. The pain is trivial in comparison to what he's doing, the way his touch makes me feel every spasm of my own muscles.

Again he doesn't give me any chance to recover. There's movement in the room next to his, clear and audible, footfalls and things being picked up and put down; he grins down at me with unfocused eyes, undoes his pants and pulls them out of the way, and thrusts into me hard. His hands grab at my shoulders, and I shove my fist against my mouth and bite down, struggling to close my throat against more cries. He's hot, moving eagerly and harshly; I'd thought his fingers were good enough, and having him inside me again proves the theory totally wrong.

I can't stifle a groan, and he laughs breathlessly as the noises from the next room don't falter. "You really love this, don't you?" he whispers, leaning down to my ear till his breath brushes my skin hot and damp, rolling his hips against mine hard. "What a little masochist you are, Rou-chan. I didn't know you'd like it this much." He punctuates nearly every word with something, a thrust of his hips or a bite at my earlobe, until my senses are almost overwhelmed and all I can do is try to keep from groaning again.

He kisses me again, and bites my lower lip before he speaks. "Say something, Rou-chan. I won't let you come until you say something."

I try to catch enough breath for it, arching against him. "Kei..." My whisper sounds like a lion's roar. The person in the other room is still moving around.

He rolls his hips again, grinding into me. "Say it..." The teasing's gone from his voice, and he leans down to bite my lip hard. "Say it."

"Kei, please." I lick my lips and taste blood sharp on my tongue. "I...want to come."

He makes a noise, something that almost sounds like a moan of pleasure, and thrusts harder. "Good...good." His movements grow even faster, his hands sliding down to my hips and holding me close against him; he pushes his face into my neck, bites at my skin again, his fingers tight on my hipbones.

His breathing stumbles and catches and then he comes hard, harder than I remember from before. I hear him choke something back in his throat; the heat and the rhythm of his movements hurt for a moment, and only a few seconds of it are enough to make me finally come again. For a moment we're both in the midst of it, and I clutch at his back and buck my hips up for more of him. Then he slows and stops and gasps against my neck, and I fade down into slow realization of where I am and how much pain's spread over my body.

When he pulls out of me and away from me, it takes all the will I've got to keep from running out of his house, away from the knowledge that his family was in the same building as we had sex. The thought chills me with the fear of discovery, and at the same time I can't find anything more than that. I look up at him in an effort to ground myself, catching the sweat and the flush on his face and the dull satisfaction in his eyes.

He smiles. "I told you, you loved it." His hand slips between my legs again, and when he gets up to retrieve his shirt and fix his pants, I'm already wet again wanting him.


	4. monochrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains spoilers for episode 24 of the anime!!

I hear, eventually, about Karasuno's loss. The news passes its way down through the faculty - not directly to me, but mentioned in whispers that I can't help hearing, even though I'm still only a substitute. It plants a little kernel of worry in my stomach about how the first-years in the team will react, about how Tsukishima will react.

The next day, I find out.

Through my whole class, he's not paying attention, and I can see it more clearly than I thought I'd be able to. His gaze is faintly unfocused, turned to the top of his desk or the scenery outside the window more often than it's aimed at me or my blackboard. Even on better days he's always quiet, but somehow there's a darker edge to it today, something layered with brooding. It keeps me glancing back at him throughout the class.

Eventually, the class ends, and I gather up my papers as the students begin to murmur among themselves. Today's schedule had been slightly tweaked, making my class finish in the middle of the day rather than at the end; it's an odd feeling of displacement and it takes me a few minutes to leave the classroom, out into an empty hallway shining under afternoon sun. The hush is calming and lonely at the same time.

I drop off my papers in the teacher's lounge and head out toward the girls' bathroom, telling myself to check my makeup but with an undercurrent of just wanting a way to breathe in the silence. Quiet footsteps ring out behind me as I walk to the bathroom door, barely enough to make me notice.

A presence flashes into existence behind me when I push the door open - a sudden realization of someone there. I turn and see Tsukishima, eyes strangely cold behind his glasses, and then he pushes me into the bathroom. My hand's snatched up in his and I shiver at the coolness of his fingers; he pulls me into one of the stalls, the largest one near the wall, shoves the door closed with his free hand. It bangs loudly, the noise echoing off the tiles like a gunshot.

I can't even start to blink before he's slammed me against the wall. It hurts, a sharp movement on his part that crushes my hips between his and the wall, and my head nearly snaps back just from the momentum alone. For an instant I stare up at his eyes again, frozen over without any of the amusement I'm so used to seeing, and then he kisses me.

There's none of the teasing that I've come to expect from him, nothing except the rough dominance of his lips working against mine. His hands are on my shoulders, tight enough to bruise. He bites my lower lip hard and pushes closer in the midst of the flicker of pain; his fingers dig into my skin even through my blouse. A burning starts in my lungs from lack of breath.

He holds the kiss until the red-lit blackness behind my eyelids starts to spin, and when he breaks it I hear him gasping for breath. Both his hands slide down to my hips, hold me in place as he grinds against me. He pushes his face against my neck to sink his teeth into my skin, leaving throbbing pain after every bite.

Something in me has already figured out why he's so desperate. His whole body's tense, extra energy fueling his movements; it must be from Karasuno's loss. I nearly want to ask him, but at the same time I hear the frustration in his breath. Then he nips at my jawline with no subtlety and I feel the first familiar signs, the rush of blood between my legs and the ache across my hips. For a moment some of the blood reaches my face at just how much I already like what he's doing.

I layer my hands on his, pressing at his fingers to keep them tight. He makes a low irritated noise and in an instant he's pinned my hands above my head again, holding both my wrists with only one hand. My eyes slip closed on their own again, until the rest of my senses flood in to replace sight, leaving me with the smell of chalk and pencil lead that clings to him every school day, the sharp sparks of pain that he leaves biting along my neck again, the way his hips are pressed to mine in the best way born of practice. I'm already out of breath, the world spinning again.

When his mouth moves back to mine he forces my mouth open before I can open it myself. I'd have thought he wouldn't have the patience to use his tongue, but he does; I can't recognize his taste today, and I don't even try, letting his tongue move warm and wet over mine. He pushes tighter against me at the same time, and his free hand wanders down, pushing up my skirt till his fingers close around my thigh. I buck against him and moan, an alarming echo joining my voice almost instantly.

He breaks the kiss with another bite at my lower lip, and with the euphoria of pain I feel his teeth break the skin. The fainter pain of his nails digging into my thigh joins it. Ducking his head, he bites at my earlobe and whispers to me, his voice harsh and flat without the echo. "I'm gonna do you right here, Rou. Right here."

The anger in his voice nearly sounds directed at me - I'd believe it, if I'd done a thing to upset him. Knowing why he's angry does nothing but turn me on. I press my lips shut to keep my voice from reverberating again, and nod with my eyes caught on his.

His fingers slip between my legs, pulling my panties down with no ceremony. For a moment he lingers, muffling his breath against my neck as he pushes two fingers into me; they're still cold, a shock that makes my back arch for all that it borders on painful. I already know how rough he can be, but this time is worse, and I grit my teeth against the knowledge that I shouldn't like the hard movements of his fingers half as much as I do.

He pulls his hand away after only a few minutes, lets my hands go free and reaches to undo his pants. Abruptly I realize just what he means to do, and swallow down a protest at the difficulty of it. Then he leans in swiftly and bites at my throat and the thoughts all disappear, buried under mounting excitement.

The door to the bathroom opens only seconds later, barely loud enough for me to hear under the roar in my ears. My muscles freeze up, coated in ice but with the pulse of arousal still heavy underneath; memories rush up of when we'd been in his house, his family coming home with no knowledge that we were only a wall away. I can't keep my eyes focused and my hands are suddenly back at his hips.

He smiles, almost close to the old teasing if not for the harsh ice in his eyes. "Good," he whispers in my ear, voice masked by a girl's humming outside the stall, and guides both my hands to touch him.

I bite back a gasp, nearly glad for the noise outside as his heat seeps into my fingers. He leans both hands against the wall and I watch him, the way his eyes close and he grits his teeth as his hips move almost unconsciously in time with my hands. By the time the water runs in a sink outside, my hands are slick from him and giddy warmth is pounding in my stomach.

When the door swings shut behind whoever had entered, he yanks my hands away and grabs at my thighs greedily. I'll never be sure of how he manages it, but he does - pulling my legs open to brace them above his hips, holding me in place between him and the wall, fingers hard enough that I know they'll bruise later. I clutch at his shoulders, keeping my thighs tight around him.

My eyes are barely closed when he thrusts into me, and I can't even try to keep back my gasp. His wet heat is all too familiar but the rest of it, the angle and the quick movements of his hips, is all new. My fingers are knotted in his shirt; I feel sweat down my back despite the lingering chill of the tiled wall. He groans very quietly and keeps moving, pushing harder.

At some point he kisses me again, biting my lips and licking away the blood that I'd forgotten about. I barely feel it, even the pain from each snap of his teeth fading underneath what he's doing inside me. My mind glances on the thought of someone else coming in, hearing our breathing and the rasp of our clothing rubbing together, and for the first time I manage to buck my hips in time with his rhythm. He makes another noise, this one almost a growl.

It's only later when I'll realize that I liked it so much because of how hard he's going, how ungentle he is. The pain of it is new enough to make my senses nearly reject it, not from intensity but just the unfamiliar places it's in; whimpers keep rising in my throat and it's all I can do to fight them back. One of them slips out, sounding fast and frightened even to me, and he bites my neck again. I can feel him moving faster and it pulls the breath from my lungs.

He comes abruptly, nearly letting go of my legs and instead burying his face in my neck as he gasps aloud. The sensation of it feels just as new as everything else, and when seconds later I feel his hot breath on my sore skin I come too, the pain doubling when my muscles react. For an instant I barely feel the wall hard against my back, or the grip he's still got on me, and it's all the angles of his body and the warmth flooding through me, both from him and from myself.

Just like the rest of it, it's over quickly. He pulls away, manages to get me back onto my feet again, zips up his pants without meeting my eyes. As I force my shaking legs to carry my weight and reach for the toilet paper to clean myself up, a giggle close to hysteria starts bubbling up at what we'd just done. When I look at him he's still staring at nothing, but the ice in his eyes has softened.

Just briefly I contemplate saying something about the loss, and settle instead for asking, "Are you okay?" My voice echoes again, making me cringe automatically.

He nods, and frowns. "I was...rough. I'm..."

"Don't apologize." I belatedly remember my panties and pull them back on, blushing for no apparent reason. "It's okay."

Again he nods, lingers for a second as though wanting to say something else, and then turns and leaves.


End file.
